


Paper Trail

by WeeCoconutFlakes



Series: Sheaf's Chronicles [11]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Assassination, Gen, Revolution, kenku, tabaxi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 23:07:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeeCoconutFlakes/pseuds/WeeCoconutFlakes
Summary: Sheaf and Plume set out to clean up loose ends in the fight against Duskstone's reign.





	Paper Trail

**Author's Note:**

> Something a bit different this time, almost a montage summarizing Plume and Sheaf's activities away from the Cockatrice.

Forthston was a small town, but a new one, built to satisfy Duskstone’s growing population. It was something of a poster child for the country, the model town. Because of this, it was already teeming with corrupt guards and informants that would spill secrets for coin. Sheaf learned from such folk that a member of the Duskstone court was to visit the town soon. He and Plume waited for several days until the courtier arrived.

“So, what are we so interested in this guy for?” Plume asked.

“He is in the court. If we can get close to him, we can find information, and perhaps a way in,” Sheaf responded.

“I see.” Plume yawned and stretched. “He ought to show up soon. This town is a bore.”

When the courtier arrived, he did so in a wagon. The driver parked the wagon, and the courtier left to give a speech. His attendant and driver stopped to rest in the town’s tavern. Plume met them there, and entertained them with great story and many mugs of ale. With a signal from Sheaf, he told them he’d step out for just a moment, and called for another round. He joined Sheaf, and they both inspected the wagon. After a moment of quick searching, Sheaf had found a pair of spare uniforms. They both put on the disguises, and the courtier soon finished his speech, returning to the parked wagon.

“Let us go. This town is a strange one, I wish to return to the court,” he said, as he climbed into the wagon. Plume and Sheaf kept their heads down as they drove the wagon out of the town, down a long road, off onto a dirt path, eventually stopping in the middle of an expansive plain, blank grassland stretching off to the horizon. They slid from the front of the wagon, coming around to check on their passenger, finding him asleep, leaned against the wooden bench he sat on.

Sheaf leafed through his pockets, then Plume woke him up, dragging him out of the wagon. With little resistance, the courtesan was intimidated into talking.

“The first thing I would like to know is your name,” Sheaf said.

“Vogem Baz,” the short man responded, spitting blood on the grass.

Sheaf nodded to Plume. “Tell me about the Court.”

Baz furrowed his brow. “We’re simple advisors to the king, governers and the like.”

Plume hit Baz’s head with the butt of a dagger. “Take us for fools?”

Baz recovered from the blow, and shook his head. “You know so much, do you? Fine. You’re smart enough to know what to ask for.”

Sheaf closed his eyes. “I want to know who’s on the Court.”

Baz laughed. “Why should I tell you something like that? You’ll kill me? Khurain would do worse than you could imagine.”

“Perhaps. Who is in charge of keeping the public pacified?”

“Depends. But your main woman is Risren Terreye. She’s brilliant, knows exactly how to spin things.” Baz shook his head. “But you’ll never get to her. She’s too close to the Court. She’s protected.”

“She’s in High Stone, then?”

“Out of your reach. You rebels don’t understand just what you’re standing against. This goes in too deep for some upstarts like you to uproot.”

“We shall see.” Sheaf and Plume continued to interrogate Baz until they found what they wanted. They learned names of Terreye’s contacts in various regions and cities.

Sheaf nodded to Plume and climbed onto the wagon’s seat. Plume saluted toward Baz. “Thank you for your cooperation, my good courtesan.” He hopped into the seat and Baz watched the wagon disappear over the horizon. He cursed to himself as he looked around at the featureless plains.

In the wagon, Plume was talking excitedly to Sheaf, as the kenku directed the horses with his reins.

“Hey, we really pulled that off!”

“It was very successful, I agree.”

“I’ve always wanted to do that. You know, interrogate someone, wrench some info from them.”

“Then I am glad you came along.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

“It is twofold, and with this list of names,” Sheaf indicated to the paper he had taken notes on, “we should be able to pull it off. The goal is to garner support for the dethroning of Duskstone.”

“We want to start a revolution. I can get behind that.”

“So, first we must stop the supply of propaganda. This list contains the names of Terreye’s contacts. If we silence them, she can’t get her false message out.”

“Won’t they still be able to get word to the regions?”

“I believe it will at least cripple their communications. When the propaganda moves slower, the truth of events will have a chance to surface.”

“And that’s the second part, isn’t it? Expose the truth?”

“Correct. Neither can work without the other.”

“If Terreye can shut down our message, Duskstone won’t lose support. But she won’t need to shut it down if we never send it.”

“You are catching on quickly.”

“Defying convention comes naturally, my friend. How hard could it be to start a revolution?”

Sheaf laughed as he cracked the reigns, making his way to a port town. From there, he talked his way onto a ship headed to Conriston.

“What’s the plan in Conriston?”

“It is where our first target resides. I’ll speak to my contacts and work from there.”

“All these mysterious contacts of yours. Where do they come from?”

“I spent the last few years cultivating them. Saúte provided the base, now I have many underground connections.”

Plume thought. “That really doesn’t answer the question.”

“Perhaps if you accompany me, I can make things more clear.”

“What are you going to do.”

“I’ll gather as much information as I can.”

“Ah, right. Information gathering. Preliminary reconnaissance. I’ll pass.”

Sheaf sat back. “Suit yourself.”

There work in Conriston proved successful, and soon the whole town vowed to help dethrone Duskstone. Next they went to Aberdyfi, a small region dotted with villages. It, too, joined the resistance, and so did the next several areas, over the next months.

“We’re making a hell of an impact,” Plume remarked as they settled in the hold of another ship.

“That we are. I suspect that the Court is driving itself up the wall, so to speak.”

“Yeah, we must be attracting some kind of attention, right? I mean, descriptions of an unruly tabaxi traveling with a kenku can’t be that hard to trace back to us, can it?”

“Likely not. However, we move quickly, and I suspect the Cockatrice is giving its own headache to the Court.”

Plume nodded. “I haven’t thought about the Cockatrice in a while.” He looked up at Sheaf. “You regret leaving?”

Sheaf shook his head. “Working on my own like this is strange, but I enjoy the experience, as well as your company.” Plume smiled. “At any rate,” Sheaf continued, “we are seeing positive results.”

“You’ve got a good way of thinking, Sheaf. It’s helped me.”

“I did notice, you seem to be more focused as of late.”

“I’ve been trying that stuff you recommended. The meditating and the ki and whatnot.”

“I’m glad it’s working for you.”

“Yeah, me too.” Plume stretched and settled back. “So where are we headed next?”

“Fellshine. It’s an old city, sat on a wide bay. I hear they have a Bard’s College, you may want to pay them a visit.”

Plume scoffed. “The Bards. They make a mockery of what performance is about. Hang me, if I should ever breath of joining their ranks.”

Sheaf shrugged. “If you say so. I admit I know little about them.” Sheaf leaned back and closed his eyes, getting some rest during their journey.

After their eventful, but successful, visit to Fellshine, Sheaf and Plume joined a wagon caravan to a city called Azmarin, where Sheaf had one more target. He was waiting for a contact, when Plume found him.

“Sheaf!” he said. “I found a lead on the ring!” As he said so, he gestured to the ring he hadn’t taken off since Fellshine.

“Really?” Sheaf responded. “Tell me.”

“Some hoity-toity elf named Kwon’ae. He’s holding a ball soon, let’s crash the party and see what we can find!”

Sheaf shook his head. “Sounds risky. And we came here for a reason, anyway. I’m afraid I am busy.”

Plume hesitated, then said, “Fair enough. Good luck with whatever you're doing. I'm going up to check out the place.”

Plume walked away, and Sheaf continued waiting. He soon saw his contact and, glancing around for anyone following him, stepped into an alley after his informant.

“You weren’t followed?” the hooded woman asked.

“I should think not. You received my letter?”

“Yes. You’ve got a tricky one this time, my friend. Estren was hard to find reliable info on.”

“But you have it?”

The woman smiled from under her hood. “Of course I do. You have the gold?”

Sheaf nodded, and pulled a small pouch from his robe. His contact had a small collection of notes ready in hand. As they exchanged, her sleeve slid up, and he noticed the symbol of a burning feather on her wrist.

“What is that?” he asked, indicating the tattoo.

She smirked. “Haven’t you heard of Cockatrice?”

“I have. I didn’t take you for a freedom fighter.”

“They’re doing a good thing. You should see about joining up.”

“Perhaps I will,” Sheaf said as he threw his hood up. He stepped out of the alleyway and consulted his notes. Kyeon Estren was the last of Terreye’s associates. By now, he’d almost certainly become paranoid, and would be taking pains to protect himself. After Sheaf dismissed a man trying to convince him to “join the resistance,” he noticed a potential method of attack.

Every day, Estren was visited by a courier with information from the Court. In his paranoia, he had requested a different courier visit him each day. The courier was given documents that verified their position to Estren’s guards. Anyone with those documents could get past the main guards at least, and from there things would be much easier. Of course, Sheaf wouldn’t be able to acquire any for himself, but he most likely could forge them, so long as he got ahold of a sample.

He waited at Estren’s residence. Sure enough, at the right time, a courier arrived. He handed a paper to the guard at the gate, who looked it over. When the guard was satisfied, he nodded and waved the courier through, pocketing the document. Sheaf would need to obtain it before the checkpoint. He also didn’t want the courier to be unable to pass the checkpoint, though, as raising any sort of suspicions could change things, and Estren was paranoid enough as it was. When the courier returned through the checkpoint, Sheaf tailed him, watching where he went, hoping to find a place to catch another courier the next day. He arrived at the town hall, where the courier reported the job done, and left.

The next day, Sheaf was waiting at the town hall. He scanned the crowd, unsure of how to pick out the courier. Then he heard a voice.

“Why all the suspicion and the security and whatnot, eh Lifnus?”

Another voice responded. “He’s paranoid and rich; what can you do?”

The first voice grunted. “My job, I guess. I’m delivering to him today.”

“Good luck with that.”

Sheaf located the source of the voices, a gnome and an elf, parting ways. He glanced from one to another, unsure which was Lifnus, and which was his target. He watched them both walking in different directions, and caught the gnome leaving right as the elf took a place at a desk.

He quickly made his way to the door, trying to regain sight of the gnome. Quickly, he found him, and followed the courier. On a particularly busy street, where the gnome was having trouble moving through the crowd, Sheaf walked up behind him and deftly pulled a paper peeking from his pocket. Walking a short way away, he opened the paper. It’s title read, “Confirmation of Identity of Postman.” This was what he was looking for. He memorized it’s content, and checked for any secret marks or material, then returned to the gnome.

“Excuse me,” Sheaf said. The gnome looked up, and Sheaf offered the paper. “I believe you dropped this.” The gnome looked him up and down, and accepted the document.

“Ah, thanks. This is important.” The gnome gave him an awkward nod, and walked away, back to his destination. Sheaf took the opposite direction, heading to a store which supplied ink and paper.

The next morning, Sheaf prepared an outfit that blended more into the crowds in the street. While the simpler clothes restricted his movement more than his own modified outfit, he’d make due for this job. With a satchel slung over his shoulder and a forged document in hand, he went to visit Estren. He was harrassed by another recruiter on his way, before he arrived at the guard checkpoint.

“A bit earlier than normal,” the guard mused as he took Sheaf’s ID. He looked Sheaf over, and nodded, waving him into the manor as he pocketed the document. Sheaf walked in, and as the door closed, he glanced around, to see a few more guards, lazily watching him. He walked forward, up a set of stairs, and a servant opened a door for him. As he walked through, the door shut behind him.

A man was reading a book at a desk, and glanced up when Sheaf entered.

“Mr. Estren,” Sheaf said, quietly pulling a dagger from the satchel.

Estren looked up again, and hesitated. He closed his book and stood. “I don’t recognize you. I am to be informed of each new worker.”

“I’m sorry you weren’t told.”

Estren’s face paled. “That satchel is empty. I know why you’re here.”

Sheaf nodded. “You know they can’t help you.”

Estren steeled himself, and gripped the desk. “I’ve boxed myself in, it seems. The walls are soundproof, at the request of the king. Will you permit me one question, first?” Sheaf nodded, and Estren swallowed. “Why are you doing this?”

“You and all of Terreye’s contacts are essential to Duskstone. Without you, we can remove him from power.”

“You’re a rebel?” Estren eyed Sheaf. “Wait. I know you.” He pointed with excitement. “You were on the dawn’s crew!” Sheaf looked quizzically at Estren. Estren quickly pulled up his sleeve, revealing the same tattoo of a burning feather he’d seen on his informant. “I am with Cockatrice, sir.”

“Dawn’s crew?” Sheaf asked quizzically.

“A name we’ve given to the original sailors on the ship Cockatrice. Sort of a tongue-in-cheek, you see, a contrast of dawn to dusk.”

Sheaf was confused. “How is it that a member of Duskstone’s Court is with Cockatrice?”

“I know more about the Court than most. I detest them. I inherited the position, you see, when my father died.” He sat. “But, the Court is not exactly a group that takes no for an answer. I’ve been feeding Cockatrice information for months, as well as doing what I can for the cause. You must have been here a few days to plan this attempt, no? Surely you’ve noticed the strength of their movement here.”

Sheaf recalled all the recruiters he’d been harrassed by the last few days, and nodded. “It seemed odd.”

“So, you’ll not kill me, I hope?” Sheaf shook his head, and Estren relaxed. “Brilliant. Things are quite exciting, I must confess. There are plans of an assault on High Stone brewing.”

Sheaf began to respond as he returned his dagger to the satchel. Suddenly, the door opened behind him. It was the servant.

“Sir, we have most curiously received another courier. What shall we--” He stopped mid-sentence as he saw Sheaf’s dagger. He paled and ran, yelling for the guards. Estren looked at Sheaf, who ran out of the room, leaping over the banister. He landed with a roll on the ground floor, and narrowly dodged a crossbow bolt that was fired at him. He threw the door open and turned to see another bolt careening toward him. Instinctually, he moved his hand up, and batted the bolt off course, redirecting it to bounce off the brick wall of a nearby house. He looked up and leapt, climbing up the wall and sprinting away by rooftop. He found a safe place to descend, and waited for a moment, resting and deciding his next move. He decided to try to find Plume.

Trawling around taverns and asking around for a rowdy tabaxi wasn’t getting him many answers, no one, apparently had seen him. He was coming up empty until he encountered a melancholy woman wearing a cloak.

“Gray fur, sort of a tabby look?” she asked, her face red and puffy. When she turned, Sheaf noticed her fine clothes,

“Yes. Have you seen him?

She gave a sad nod, and directed him to the prison Plume was being held in. Sheaf thanked her, and made his way there. He had no choice but to wait, and so he did, for the next three days. When Plume finally strolled out of the prison, he greeted Sheaf.

“How long have you been sitting there, bird?” he asked coyly.

“I finished my work and came here. I have left to eat and such. You took your time.”

“We’re higher up on Duskstone’s list now. Did you know we’re a rebel group now?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, moving up. What’s our next move, then?”

“I was actually thinking we could try to meet back up with the Cockatrice.”

Plume hesitated. “Is that such a good idea? There’s a lot of heat there.”

“From Duskstone or Nimma?”

“Come now, Sheaf.” Plume gestured behind him. “Clearly Duskstone’s attention is no problem.”

“She needs all the help she can get.”

“We’ve been aiding the fight from out here just fine, Sheaf, we don’t need to join back up.”

“I heard they are going to assault High Stone City.”

Plume was taken aback. “I must have misheard you. Nimma is assaulting the capital, High Stone City, the heart of the Duskstone Court and the most fortified city on Faerûn? What, with her ship?”

“You may be out of the loop, but Cockatrice is a veritable army now. They have freed and recruited thousands across the kingdom. I have been offered a place in the army about twenty times since we arrived here in Azmarin alone.”

Plume was silent. He thought hard. “Okay then. Let’s join the army.”


End file.
